


You Should Have Killed Me When You Had The Chance

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Not Ashamed, Insanity, M/M, Murder, No Romance, No Sex, No Smut, Violence, crazy!gerard, i watch too many horror movies, this is plain crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:18:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An one shot where Gerard doesn't love Frank and understanding is the only thing that keeps them together.</p><p> </p><p>(REUPLOAD! I'm a stupid little fuck and I forgot an important paragraph the last time I posted this)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Should Have Killed Me When You Had The Chance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nathie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nathie).



> I posted this yesterday but I fucked the editing up (I even forgot the paragraph where Frank and Gerard meet, I'm so stupid) so I deleted it. 
> 
> Title is by ADTR, I was inspired by another work, I wanna thank my friends for being awesome (and for not noticing mistakes, ugh), bla.
> 
> I hope you'll understand everything, I just like to keep some things vague.
> 
> Oh, I wanna mention that I don't wanna insult Gerard with this. It's just easier to use existing characters.

_You don't know a thing about this life_  
 _And we are up for everything it takes to prove we're not the same as them_  
  
  
In a city like Newark people know better than to go out at night. Particularly when it's raining and storming; when the street lanterns - if they even work - give away a spooky glow; when the dirty water of the Hudson River looks dark and opaque, like it's made of the blood of the lifeless bodies who are found there now and then. Sometimes, even in such nights, people stumble out of bars in dark alleyways, wasted, not caring whether they're going to be a victim of some psychopath or a robber. It's not like they've got anything to lose, most of them are already half dead and if they aren't, they'll be in one, two years. It's Newark. If you're not a failure, you go away. To New York, Chicago, where people have a chance.  
  
  
Though, the darkly clothed man walking along the Hudson River isn't one of those wasted people who don't have to be afraid of losing anything since they already lost it all. He may be a failure to society, but he's not like _them_. First of all, he doesn't drink when he's out. _I gotta be clear in my mind to appreciate the art, the beauty, the darkness_ , that's what he told his friend once. Secondly, there isn't a single person in Newark that's like him. There was. At least that's what he thought. But the person turned out to be not as different than the people in that filthy city as the man thought. He's not bitter about it, not anymore. He got his revenge.  
  
  
It began with revenge. It ends with revenge.  
  
  
Gerard sat in a dimly-lit bar, uncomfortable between the sweaty bodies of drunk people, disgusted by human beings in general. Yet he pretended to be just like everyone, hoping someone would try to flirt with him soon. He wasn't one to think he was extremely handsome or think well of himself at all. He despised himself just like he despised everyone, but he knew of the effect he had on men and women. He didn't have to wait too long, just like every other night. Soon a tall man in an expensive looking, dark grey suit had made his way towards him, smiling, perfect white teeth showing, and sat on the wooden bar stool next to Gerard. Their knees touched, the stranger laid his big, spotless hand on Gerard's leather clad thigh, then waved to get the bartender's attention. Gerard was disgusted, but played along. He leaned in, said “You a business man?” and smirked. It seemed silly to Gerard, small talk in general did. But that's how it worked. “Yeah, I came here right after work.” the stranger screamed back, just loud enough so Gerard could hear him over the shitty music and the sound of people getting wasted, having fun, pretending not to be total fuck ups. In a way, Gerard's just as fucked up as they are, but he's not like them. At all. “You got a name?”, Gerard screamed back, again smirking like this wasn't the vilest thing to do. “James.” the man shouted and pushed one of the drinks the bartender had brought towards Gerard who didn't plan on drinking much that night. “Gerard.”, he replied. You may think it's stupid that Gerard told _them_ his real name. But it's not like they were going to walk around and tell other people that Gerard Arthur Way had killed them. James smiled at him. It made him look like he just walked out of an advertisement for an overpriced product everyone really, really needed and it made Gerard want to poison him right there. James. What an ordinary, boring name. Gerard will probably forget it as soon as he's finished with the man.  
  
  
Ten minutes later they were walking in the direction Gerard said his apartment was in. James was all over him, trying to kiss him, but Gerard turned away, giggling childish, acting like he was shy, which was total bullshit, because he just promised a man he had met ten minutes to take him home. Gerard had slept with a few people he picked up at a bar and even though he refused to say they were special, he had been less disgusted by them. However he can't tell what was different about them so he had had sex with them. It's not something he did regularly. It happened every few months, no big deal. Gerard was above such repulsive desires. The men continued walking along the shore of the Hudson River, James continued being all over Gerard, Gerard continued sneaking his hand into his coat pocket, closing his long, spidery fingers around the smooth metal, heated by his body warmth. He slowly opened the knife in his pocket, trying not to smile. James didn't notice anything. Gerard snuggled closer to the other man, his hot breath ghosting over James' ear, and whispered “Stupid fucking failure.”. Before James' intoxicated brain comprehended what the man who was supposed to make his night good had said, he felt a piercing pain in his left side, right below his rips. He turned around to face Gerard, not really understanding the situation, but the other man just smirked at him. The thing Gerard liked the most about killing was to watch the life leave the body, though he didn't like the killing itself, seeing blood or watching the people's faces going from confused to scared any less. Another stab, in the stomach this time. Another one. James began to scream, but it was already too late, only a raspy noise left his mouth. Then Gerard dumped him into the pitch black water. The body was going to be found, but they never found out who the offender was, the water was doing to wash away every hair or flake of skin on the victim that may have led to Gerard.  
  
  
Sometimes Gerard talked to his victims while watching them die, when they were already too weak to fight back – most of them didn't fight back anyway, too intoxicated or surprised to react soon enough - , but today he didn't feel like talking. It wasn't even about art this time. Sure, he loved that the gaping wounds looked extremely unreal on the perfect man; how the blood stained the perfect suit; that the eyes looked different – not less dead, again, most people in Newark were already half dead – that made the most boring person look interesting. It wasn't about art, it was about revenge. Some people would say _James didn't do anything to him, how can he justify that with revenge?_ But that's stupid. James wasn't important, he just happened to be there. James was one of them. It's not like Gerard thought he was too cool for laws or anything, he would allow anyone to kill for revenge. It wasn't his fault that people were too dumb to live by their own rules, right? Well, as long as he was walking this fucked up planet he would definitely avenge what they did to him.  
  
  
Nobody knew of Gerard's little hobby, yet the people that knew him the slightest bit thought he was weird, so he didn't really have friends. He could have friends, he knew how to act so people would love him. But dealing with himself all fucking day long was enough, he didn't need to have some foolish people around him. Another reason was that Gerard always had thought nobody was able to understand him. You can't just tell people that you kill people every now and then. There were probably many other people that liked to kill, but even those weren't like him. They made it out of perversion, they didn't appreciate the art, they were just like _them_. Gerard hadn't ever had real friends. It was kind of weird, considering his age. There were a few people he ate lunch with in middle school, but they eventually abandoned him when they discovered that being around him made them look uncool. So, if you told Gerard that he would find a good friend at the age of 27, he probably would have laughed at you. Or killed you. You never knew with that man. Never say never. It actually happened.  
  
  
Gerard had just dumped two heavy, dark blue plastic bags filled with body parts of the Asian man who had flirted with him three hours ago and heavy stones so the bags would sink to the already covered in trash floor, never coming to the surface again, in the Hudson River. Of course, he hadn't forgotten to poke holes in the plastic so the body wouldn't be mummified or something. His work was done, he turned away when he suddenly saw a silhouette, about 15 feet away away, leaned against the wall of an old, timeworn building. Gerard couldn't just walk away because he didn't know if the person saw what he'd done. Eventually the mysterious person started walking in his direction and in the glow of a street lamp Gerard was able to see a bit of the face. Of his face, it was a man, Gerard thought. Even with the light of the lamp it was still quite dark, so besides the gender he couldn't really see anything other than that the must have been quite young, his features looked childish. And he was pretty short compared to Gerard. As he stood in front of him, he spoke up, his voice pretty extraordinary. “You got something to hide?” The first thing that came to Gerard's mind was _Fuck_. The next thing was He doesn't know anything, he just saw me throwing plastic bags in a river, there's no way he knows that I kill people and then he realized This boy thinks I'm a criminal or something and isn't flipping out. “What?” Gerard asked, trying to sound innocent. Now, Gerard was a really good actor, but the stranger kind of threw him out of his concept. “Why the fuck would you go out at night, in fuckin' Newark, to throw trash in a river? You know that shit's supposed to be thrown in a trash can? You probably killed like 10 fish by doing that.”, the boy spoke, clearly with a Jersey accent. Normally, Gerard was disgusted by every human being. He hated everything about them, he thought they're vile and stupid and he wanted to get away from them as soon as possible. But man, there was something about this guy that hadn't made Gerard want to get rid of him immediately. “What do you think was in those bags?” Gerard asked eventually. The boy grinned. “I'd say a dead body, but you wouldn't do that, right?” It really impressed Gerard that the strange boy didn't freak out. Maybe that was what had been special about him. “You're not freaking out.” Gerard spoke, voicing his thoughts. The boy giggled at that. He fucking giggled. “I've seen worse.” That attitude confused Gerard a bit. Then the boy's face became more serious, a bit worried. “You're not gonna kill me, right?” Well, honestly, Gerard should have killed him since the stranger was a serious danger to his existence. But he didn't. And he didn't regret it. At first. Eventually, he shook his head. “Okay. Cool. I'm Frank.”  
  
  
Gerard thought about the situation really often, he remembered almost every detail, but he hasn't figured out what had made him make that stupid, huge mistake till today. It must have been the way Frank had reacted. Of course, he hadn't really known that Gerard actually killed people, but he had considered it, had been interested. Somehow, he had given Gerard the illusion of being understood. That's what their relationship had always been about: understanding. They didn't love each other. They shared only few interests. Frank was more of a Punk guy while Gerard enjoyed Soft Rock. Frank killed because he was angry, Gerard killed because he saw art in it. Of course, they also shared interests, but it wouldn't have worked without the understanding part. Gerard didn't want to have a friend or a boyfriend, he wanted someone who was able to comprehend his thought processes, who didn't judge him, who didn't think he was just another psychopath. You see, people like Gerard aren't really able to have friends. But Frank and Gerard kind of made it work.  
  
  
One day Frank asked Gerard what was so different about him that Gerard wanted to be his friend. “Well, I don't really love you.” He said, not even looking up from the canvas he worked on. Frank wasn't hurt. They were like that. No need to pretend. “But I feel like you understand me. Like I don't have to hide who I am. What I am.”, Gerard continued. Frank nodded. “Why didn't you get rid of me? I could just run to the police.”, he said. Gerard just shrugged. He had tried so hard to figure that out and it really bothered him that Frank was able to confuse him that badly. Gerard continued painting and he had those thin lines on his forehead like he was really concentrated, so Frank decided he'd better not bother him further now. “I'm gonna go.” With that, he walked out of Gerard's life for a few weeks. Which wasn't unusual for them, but it was for other people.  
  
  
A few weeks later Frank called Gerard. It's been almost always that way. “So, there's this guy.” he started the conversation. Gerard waited for him to go on, but he already knew where Frank was going with this. “Can you meet me where we met the first time? Tomorrow? At, like, 11 pm?” Frank asked. “Yeah.” Gerard agreed. “You got everything?” Frank chuckled. “Yeah. Meet you tomorrow.” Gerard hung up. He liked that Frank wasn't clingy or pushy; that he didn't constantly call Gerard to tell him stupid shit; that he didn't just swing by for a silly movie night.  
  
  
From time to time Gerard noticed more and more things about Frank that made him want to hate Frank like he hated _them_. At first, there were little, unimportant things. Frank had started to fuck stupid women. Gerard wasn't jealous. Honestly. It wasn't the fact that Frank slept with women or with people in general. It was the fact that it was them. Frank stopped being interested in Gerard's thoughts, in his theories. When Gerard told him something he's been thinking about for a few weeks, which he didn't do very often, Frank told him to shut the fuck up with his stupid shit. It wasn't that Frank hadn't wanted to hear it in that moment, Gerard could have told him later. Though it wasn't typical for one of them not to have time. The problem was that Frank had called it stupid shit. _They_ thought it was stupid shit too. Gerard became more distant after that, half hoping Frank would change back to his old self. It was when Frank started trying to talk Gerard into stop killing people. “Not everything is bad, stop being so hateful.”, he had said. Gerard had furrowed his brows and hoped Frank was joking or something. “You kill people for no fuckin' reason.” Frank continued. Gerard looked even more confused and shocked then. “What? For no reason?”, he spat. “Yes!” Frank said, his voice raised. “You do it all for revenge! You don't even know most of those people! How can you avenge something they never did to you?!” That's when Gerard realized that Frank wasn't like him. He had never understood him. Gerard hadn't said anything to defend his ideology. Actions speak louder than words anyway.  
  
  
Frank had been right about one thing, though. Gerard should have killed him the day they met. It took him years to figure that out. Also, Gerard had been wrong about one thing. Nobody understands him. Nobody ever will. He isn't supposed to have friends. Frank had always been one of _them_. In life as in death. Gerard walks along the shore of the Hudson River, slightly smirking at the fact that his secret is safe again. No one knows what's at the ground of that river, what's beneath that dark, opaque water. It's a good feeling. But even better is knowing that he got his revenge. Gerard walks away, hurrying because of the rain, like Frank never existed. Frank. What an ordinary, boring name.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I swear I'm not crazy


End file.
